


Tequila

by ladielazarus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8833666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladielazarus/pseuds/ladielazarus
Summary: The boys like going clubbing.





	

It starts with the inside of the wrists. A quick swipe of the tongue, a small amount of salt, a lime and a shot of tequila. 

 

They each do several of these, and then move off to dance. They like body shots. After all, why lick salt off of your own skin when your boyfriend’s is always better? (Which is inexplicably is...)

 

The dancing is fun, too. The tequila’s effects continue, and they take full advantage. The music pounds, the bassline moving through their veins as easily as their own pulse. One t-shirt is gone and then the other. Hands slide over skin soaked in dance-floor sweat. The club is hot and heavy, and they’re having too much fun. 

 

They take another break from dancing to make their way to the bar for more body shots. This time, Dean takes his salt from the skin directly under seamus’s ear, and Seamus takes his from Dean’s collarbone. It’s so much fun the way that it always feels risque even when it’s not. 

 

They return to the dance floor after two more shots a piece. Seamus is something of a tragic lightweight, truth be told, but he’s holding it together all right so long as he can lean against Dean a little. Dean, very clearly, does not object. 

 

Their dancing has devolved into the sort of heated grinding that it usually does. Seamus’s fingers are teasing the skin above Dean’s belt buckle, and Dean is pressing hot and open-mouthed kisses to Seamus’s collarbone, his shoulder, his ear, his jaw, his lips. 

 

By the time that Seamus finally suggests that they go home, they’re both a giggling mess. They barely make it up the stairs to their flat and end up deciding that the closed front door is as good a place as any for Dean to go down on his knees while Seamus hopes that the silencing charm will hold. 

 

It probably doesn’t, honestly. Seamus is loud under normal circumstances. When he’s drunk like that, Dean occasionally wonders if he’s not part-banshee. 

 

Seamus is barely finished when he tackles Dean backwards onto the floor to return the favour after they both decide that getting lube is something that they don’t want to deal with right then. Besides, after the evening they’ve had so far, they’re both feeling more than a little bit orally fixated. 

 

They manage to crawl to the sofa, after that, shedding clothes as they go. They collapse against the cushions exhausted and extremely sated. 

 

At least, until the next time one of them gets a taste for tequila.


End file.
